Wanting What You Have
by toomuchtoosoon
Summary: Eighteen & prematurely dead, Adam Banks is given one more chance to learn that when you can't have what you want, you've got to start wanting what you have. (COMPLETE)
1. Default Chapter

Adam Banks sat isolated in the locker room of Eden Hall Academy performing his usual pre-game ritual. His teammates on the varsity hockey team were pretty good about giving him quiet and privacy before every game. Adam taped his ankles before he put on his comfortable, worn-in skates—right foot, then left foot. He carefully laced each skate—right foot, then left foot—and then leaned up against his locker and closed his eyes, gently massaging his right wrist.

Adam never thought about it, but this was the pre-game ritual his father taught Adam the first time he put on skates and picked up a hockey stick—when he was three years old. Back then, hockey held some kind of wonderful magic for him. Even as recently as freshman year, hockey was the love of Adam's life. That year was truly one to remember. He and his friends, fresh off a gold medal win in the Junior Goodwill Games in Los Angeles, were awarded athletic scholarships to attend Eden Hall, one of the most prestigious hockey prep schools in the nation. Adam did not particularly need a scholarship to afford Eden Hall's tuition, but it was quite an honor nonetheless.

Adam thought back at some of the memories from that year. He made the Varsity team, third line center and certainly was good enough that year to play second line. However, the second line center that year, Owen Thomas, was a senior and therefore Coach Wilson would not have supplanted him with a freshman, no matter how good Adam was. When the school nearly succeeded in revoking their scholarships, Adam rejoined the Junior Varsity team and his fellow Ducks to actually beat Varsity for the first time in school history in the Varsity/JV showdown. Adam decided to play Varsity hockey again before the year was over and learned how to play tough, disciplined hockey. By the time sophomore year came around, Adam was playing first line center for Varsity, and suddenly hockey became all about winning, piling on the accolades and compiling the skills necessary to impress college and NHL scouts. The next truly memorable moment for Adam came at the end of the season junior year when he was placed on the first All-America team. Now Adam was having trouble remembering of any time after then that he enjoyed himself on the ice.

Adam's thoughts were so concentrated on the query that he did not realize how hard he was massaging his right wrist—Adam was downright strangling it at this point. He swore under his breath and shook his wrist to alleviate some of the pain. He injured it back at the Goodwill Games on a cheap shot that the Iceland's team enforcer, Olaf Sanderson, laid on him after Adam scored a goal on them the first time the two teams met. Like a lot of injuries, this one still bothered him once in awhile.

"Hey, Banks, are we going to destroy Blake today or what?" Adam was snapped out of his relatively quiet reverie and looked over at Charlie Conway, his best friend and teammate. It was odd; no one spoke to Adam before games. He liked to concentrate, get his mind clear. Lately it seemed like clearing his mind took more effort than usual. Anyway, Charlie knew this more than anyone.

Charlie noticed the questioning look in Adam's clear green eyes and plopped down next to him on the bench. "Adam, is anything wrong?"

Adam glanced over at Charlie. "What do you mean? Have you noticed anything with my game?"

Charlie shook his head. "No, it's not that. Your game is looking sharp—as usual. But...I don't know. You seem kind of different—subdued, lately. I mean, more than usual."

Adam pulled his head forward, staring rigidly ahead. He hated when other people worried about him—thought he was dealing with some kind of weakness. "Nah, man, everything's cool. I don't know why you would think that."

Charlie was quiet for a moment. "In that case, I wanted to talk to you about something."

The tone in Charlie's voice alarmed Adam. "Yeah? Shoot."

Charlie hesitated. "Well, last Friday I took Tom home from the Pine Hurst game." Thomasin Logan was Adam's girlfriend since sophomore year. Everyone called her Tom for short. Adam liked calling her Tamsin.

"Why would you do that? Why didn't Tamsin ask me?"

Charlie looked confused. "Well, apparently, she did. You two were supposed to hang out at Francine Hassell's party that everyone went to. You agreed to meet her at the entrance of the gym so you could drive. You never showed and she didn't have a ride anywhere. Tom's parents and their friends were at that retreat last weekend and everyone else was at Francine's vacation house in the mountains—where you know there's never any phone reception. She called your phone several times and you never answered. Tom was stranded at Pine Hurst until midnight when I finally left Francine's."

Adam's expression froze with realization. Pine Hurst was two towns away from Eden Hall. "Oh, my God, I can't believe I forgot about her. Wait. Its Thursday. How come she never brought this up with me? Jeez, Tamsin...Has she been totally pissed at me this whole time?"

Charlie shook his head. "You know Tom better than anyone else. She never said anything because she's too cool to take it personally. Tom was just worried about you. Where were you, anyway?"

Adam spent that Friday night driving around aimlessly to random, God- forsaken places. "I wanted to spend some time alone," Adam said quietly.

"Well, I just want to give you the heads up. Just because Tom doesn't act like it doesn't mean that she doesn't have feelings. Girls like her don't come around that often. And when they do, they certainly aren't interested in guys like YOU." Charlie jokingly elbowed Adam in the ribs.

Adam stared at his fingers. "Thanks and I know. I'll talk to her about it."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah, no problem. Just remember to concentrate on the game today--and have fun. At the Pine Hurst you didn't even celebrate when you scored that hat trick. And the goal on the triple deke, stick side was awesome, too." He stood up abruptly and started a conversation with Julie Gaffney, the team's 1st string goalie this year. Last year's first string was Julie's boyfriend, Scott Vanderbilt III, or Scooter as everyone called him. Scooter really did a great job improving Julie's game and for a long time was Adam's only friend on Varsity. In fact, Scooter was the one who introduced Adam to Tamsin back in sophomore year. Ah, damnit, Adam thought as his thoughts returned to Tamsin and last Friday's alleged events. Adam would have to start the mind-clearing process all over again if he was to be anywhere near ready to play today.


	2. Apathetic State of Mind

As Adam headed out of the locker room and into the hallway that led to the ice rink, Coach Orion stopped him by gently grabbing onto his shoulder.

"The game's looking good, Banks. The short-side wraparound against Pine Hurst was the best I've seen in years."

Adam was taken surprise by the compliment because Orion didn't give them out freely. His theory was that if you were good, you knew it and didn't need people telling you so.

Adam glanced at him with questioning eyes and Coach Orion got directly to his point. "Adam, there is a pair of gentlemen from the All-America committee attending the game today. The word around the PLHCA (Prep Level Hockey Coaches Association) is that Player of the Year Honors is a tight race between you and Kent Smith over at Boston Prep. Now, I want you to play relaxed and naturally today. Don't be afraid to look for your own shot and showcase some of your skills. Today is your day, Banks. You're the best player in the nation when you take care of business."

Coach Orion looked for any semblance of an expression on Adam's face and found none. "Anyway, just remember that I'm proud of you—whether or not you end up winning Player of the Year."

Coach patted Adam's arm with his clipboard and briskly started walking down the hallway. Adam stared after his back and tried to sort out his feelings. Player of the Year was a step closer to what Adam wanted to achieve in his hockey game—which was perfection. And now that it was so close, he didn't know what to think. Adam knew he was good—he often coached his teammates and players from other teams sought out his advice. The first-team All- America honors last year cemented his position as one of the top players in the game. But Adam felt strangely apathetic, like these events were happening to someone else.

As he walked closer to the ice, he spotted his teammates skating warm-ups. There was Dwayne Robertson from Austin, a grin on his face as he "corralled" the puck with several complicated and fancy motions involving his skates and stick. Dean Portman had his earphones on, rocking out to some grunge metal band, lost in his own world. Fulton Reed blasted some shots in the direction of the goal, some hitting the target right on while others careened off in unexpected and life-threatening directions. Charlie was laughing and talking animatedly to his girlfriend Linda over the transparent wall separating the ice from the stands. Everyone was enjoying themselves and Adam felt like he was outside, looking in.  
  
Adam looked up at the stands and immediately found Thomasin sitting with her best friend, Pilar Osario. He caught her eye and Thomasin gave him an incredible smile. God, he was lucky to have her, Adam acknowledged. Adam remembered the first time his mother met Thomasin. She described Thomasin as "interesting- looking," which unfortunately was his mother's tactful way of calling someone ugly. People expected Adam to date some perfect-looking, brainless fluff of a girl, but personally, he liked Thomasin's brand of 'interesting.' Thomasin had a mass of long, slick-straight hair that fell down her back. If Adam had been more articulate in the way of describing physical features, instead of 'brown,' he might have used the term 'chestnut' for her hair. For someone who was half-Spanish, Thomasin's nose was strangely and unusually aquiline. Her lips were perpetually pursed, as if a smile lurked, hidden, and Thomasin walked unconsciously with the utmost confidence. But it was her eyes that pulled it all together. Adam never really knew what exactly the color was until his junior year when he took an art class—not his first choice, but all the other electives were filled up. Anyway, when working an oil painting, Adam came across a tube of paint labeled 'sorrel'—and since that day, that was the word he used to describe Thomasin's eyes. It wasn't so much the eyes themselves but the expression in them—a certain honestly and clarity that made mere prettiness seem cheap and unimportant.

Charlie was right, too. Thomasin was way cool, too. She understood whenever Adam felt like hanging out with his friends on a Friday night instead of her. Thomasin hated the long, awkward telephone conversations other girls inflicted onto their boyfriends every night. She knew how to laugh, eat like a normal person, how to be ready for a date on time and how to cheer Adam up. Thomasin always seemed content, which was a quality Adam envied. Adam knew that he owed it to her to talk about Friday night.

Adam skated up to the glass and she walked over to face him through the wall. "Hey, babe. How was the psych test today?"

Thomasin glanced upward as if looking for divine intervention and chuckled in her sexy, husky laugh. "Can I get back to you on that one? Try 'how was the homemade salad you brought for lunch today?' because that might yield a better answer."

She sounded so normal that Adam searched her face for an expression that would betray how she really felt. He didn't believe Charlie when he said that Thomasin wasn't upset. Hell, if someone had left Adam stranded until midnight in an unfamiliar place, he'd rearrange faces—if that was in his nature.

There was a silence between the two for a moment. "Pilar says that Pete Sampras called today and wants his persona back. Any idea what that means?"

"Tam—I'm sorry for what happened Friday." Adam registered a look of surprise on Thomasin's face.

"Did Charlie tell you? I told him not to because I'm fine. I needed the time to balance my check book." Thomasin gave him a somewhat forced smile.

"Jeez, Tamsin, just let me be the bastard for once and let me apologize. It was totally my fault."

Thomasin studied his face and sighed. "Alright, fine, you're the bastard." Thomasin made her tone impossibly light. "Well... Then what happened?"

Adam stood there, at a loss for an answer, because the truth was, his real excuse was lame. Should he just make something up? Thomasin looked at him expectedly. Damnit, Adam would just tell the truth. "I don't know."

Thomasin gave him a strange look, studied his face for a clue—any clue—nodded and walked backed to her seat in the stands. As Adam started to skate away from the wall he turned suddenly to look over his shoulder. Thomasin was staring at him as if still trying to figure him out. Adam wished that he could help her, but he was having trouble with that, too.


	3. Death

Adam sat in the school library at 2am in the morning, not being able to stand the sound of Guy's snoring. It was not unusual for Adam to be up in the early hours of the morning, working on Advanced Mathematics homework. "Damnit!" Adam cursed softly as he realized that he had messed up on one of his long, complicated problems and that he had to start all over again. This would take him another hour, at least. Adam stifled an angry yawn. He took AdMath because he had a natural aptitude for it and imagined that he would major in Mathematics in college. But sitting in the library, working on his homework at 1am for what seemed like the 4th night in a row, Adam asked himself what it was all for. Now he would be exhausted during practice AGAIN and Coach Orien would get on him.  
  
At least he had performed well at the Blake game. Adam was in top form tonight, able to read and dissect play situations and all the possibilities in an instant. After he had scored his fourth goal, Adam heard Russ yell, "Dude is in the ZONE tonight!" while laughing with glee. Adam was satisfied that he had given the guys from the All-America committee something to chew on.  
  
His thoughts returned to the Math assignment in front of him. "I can't do this anymore tonight" Adam muttered to himself as he shut closed his book and quickly gathered his papers. Adam had to get out of the library NOW because he was feeling suffocated, all of his odd feelings mixing together for a mysteriously maudlin mood.  
  
He sucked in a huge breath of cold, crisp air as he stepped outside and starting walking back toward his dorm room. As he walked Adam tried unsuccessfully to sort his troubled, confused feelings. He thought about Player of the Year. Of Tamsin. Adam even thought about his frustration towards the maddening math assignment. Adam realized that he had everything that anyone could ask for. Talent that had gotten him an athletic scholarship to the University of Minnesota and could eventually get him into the NHL. Brains. A well-to-do family. Great friends. A coach who cared about him. A fantastic girlfriend. Be it as it may, Adam still felt unfulfilled—unsatisfied. There was no way to justify these feelings, but they existed and Adam didn't know what to do about it.  
  
Adam stopped in his tracks abruptly as he heard a faint crunch sound behind him. "It looks like we have here a rich preppie all alone and unprotected. What does it look like to you, man?"  
  
Another man's voice sounded behind Adam. He was too frozen to turn around. "It looks like we could use another drink--on this guy's tab. What do you say, kid?"  
  
Adam forced himself to gather some courage and turned to face the voices behind him. Two burly, unshaven goons looked at him like they were the predator and he was their prey. Adam was tough—playing hockey did that to you—but Adam felt the inescapable pull of fear in his heart. There was no one around—that's what he got for walking at 2am. These guys were wasted and looked angry—Adam would have to suck up his pride and think first of his safety.  
  
"Hey, guys, I don't want any trouble. Just take my wallet and go on your own way." Adam reached into his pocket and held out his wallet, making sure to remove his driver's license and credit card as stealthily as he could.  
  
"Look at this guy. He thinks he's too good for us." One of the burly men looked like he was working himself up. Adam knew it was no use trying to make peace with these guys—they wanted to hurt something, someone tonight. He did the only reasonable thing he could think of—he slugged one guy in the face and kneed the other in the midsection and ran. Enraged, the two men started chasing after him, murder in their eyes. Adam was fantastically conditioned and was confident that he could outrun these guys, whose senses were addled by liquor. Adam was only about 300 feet away from his dorm building. He could make it there. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he ran for his life—and then he tripped. As Adam fell, he knew that it was over. There was pain in his head as one of the guys kicked him. They kicked him over and over again and he lay, truly helpless for the first time in his life. 


	4. The Appointment

Adam woke the next morning in a strange place—an office building. His hand went immediately to his head—and it felt just fine. Adam was confused as his thoughts went back to the attack he sustained that night. Logically, Adam knew that he should be in critical condition at the hospital or dead. But here he was sitting in what looked like a reception area, surrounded by people who seemed just as confused as he was.

Just then, a smartly dressed receptionist emerged from a mysterious room. She checked her clipboard, looked around and said, "Adam Banks? Is there an Adam Banks here?"

Adam, still with no idea of what was going on, stood up and raised his hand. "That's me. What's going on?"

The receptionist smiled at him, a wonderful and benevolent expression that made Adam feel strangely light. "Great, you're here. You have an appointment."

She held open the door to the mysterious room open to him and Adam walked in, not knowing what to expect. A beautiful woman with long blond hair so pale that it was almost white sat at a desk. Her face was also very pale—almost translucent. The woman's impossibly blue eyes were wise and she studied Adam's face with red lips slightly parted.

"Hello Adam," the woman spoke with an ethereal, melodious voice, "It's good to see you again."

Adam thought that he would have remembered meeting someone as unreal as this woman. "How do you know me? Why aren't I injured or dead? What's going on?"

The woman gave him a gentle laugh. "Let me make this as easy for you as possible. I've known you all your life. I met you at the very beginnings of your life."

Adam could tell what she was implying but was too stunned to respond.

"The answer to your second question is--you ARE dead. The injuries you sustained during your attack were quite serious. You were unrecognizable when campus security found you Friday morning. This is the place where judgment is handed out. You can imagine that most people don't look forward to their appointment with me. How do you feel about how you've lived your life, Adam?"

"Wait, I'm not quite sure that this is for real. What the hell is going on?"

The woman looked slightly displeased. "Please refrain from using that word here. How about this: Your name is Adam Henry Travers Banks and you were born on September 9, 1982 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. You lost your first tooth during your fourth birthday party. Your first kiss was Joan Raft in the 3rd grade behind the mulberry tree at the east end of your elementary school's field. Your left leg is just SLIGHTLY longer than the right—long enough to make your triple deke more devastating than others. The assignment you were working on last night was on page 276 of your math book."

Adam leaned back and sighed. "Alright, so I guess I have to accept that you're for real. What happens now?"

The woman smiled again. "Answer my question. How do you feel about how you've lived your life, Adam?" Adam thought for a second. "Pretty good, I guess. I kept straight A's in school my whole life. I was dedicated to hockey and didn't really engage in all the after-hours activities my classmates did. I obeyed my parents all the time, even at the expense of my own wishes, sometimes. I treated my friends well and I took care of my girlfriend. I've lived a moral life. Wait...There was this one incident when I was three involving a stolen rubber duck from the grocery store..."

The woman interrupted Adam. "Were you happy? I noticed in your file a negative downturn in your emotional line graph recently. Can you explain that?"

Adam thought about all of the conflicting emotions he had been experiencing recently. "I've been asking myself the same question all the time lately. The answer is—I don't know. I don't know why I was feeling the way I did. But I guess I don't have to deal with it anymore, now that I'm dead, right? Let's get this over with so I can move on."

The woman chuckled with a secret playing on her lips. "You know, Adam, no one has ever said that to me during an appointment. It's mostly a lot of screaming and crying and cursing. It can be pretty unpleasant. But I must say...your case is making my job a little more tragic than usual." She paused for a moment. "Actually, we're not too much in a hurry to have you. I think that we could give you...Another week, maybe? And then in a week's time I'll talk to you again in this office. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for."

Adam didn't know how to respond to that. "Okay. I guess I could use the time to say goodbye to everyone."

The woman shook her head. "No one can know about this place and your fate-- Use the time in a way that will benefit you positively. You can imagine that most people would take the time to have a lot of sex—indulge themselves in some way. That's why we don't do this very often. But I'm positive that you're going to be different. I look forward to seeing you next week in a better mood."

The woman gave him one last smile, a special one, and Adam suddenly blacked out.


	5. Feeling HappyLike a Doofus

Adam awoke with a start and realized that he was still in the library. He glanced at his black sports wristwatch; 2:03am. Adam leaned back into his chair, sighed, and placed the back of his palm on his forehead; sickness was the only explanation for his delusions of the strange pale woman and the reception room. He really needed some sleep before classes began at 7:00 so Adam gathered his books, papers and backpack and stood up to leave the library. However, he noticed a small piece of rectangular card paper hanging out of his math book. Curious, Adam stopped to open the book and noted what page the card paper was wedged in; 276. He couldn't help but think of the woman with her long, pale blond hair and serene expression again. The card was reminiscent of the type he used to get from the dentist, reminding him of an appointment. The card was plain and had three lines of simple black text.  
  
Adam H. T. Banks

Is scheduled for an appointment

January 26 at 2:03am.  
  
All of the air rushed out of Adam's lungs and his knees were so weak that he leaned onto a wall for support. His 'appointment' was exactly a week from now and Adam could no longer deny that he had died and was going to die again. Thoughts of confusion swam through his consciousness and thought back to the woman and his appointment with her. The woman had said that she was sending him back to 'find what he was looking for.' Adam was perplexed as to what she meant. All of a sudden Adam felt extremely small in the scheme of the universe. What was Adam supposed to do with the time he had left? He didn't know. As Adam was about to step out of the exit of the library into the cold, dark night he stopped and thought the better of it. He had learned from the first time. Instead Adam sucked up his usual tough- guy pride, pulled out his cell phone and called campus security.  
  
As Officer "Call-Me-Dan" escorted Adam back to his dorm building, Adam found himself taking the opportunity to pay attention to the scenery around him. The cold, crisp January air felt invigorating as it traveled through his lungs and Adam stared up into the clear, navy blue Minnesota sky where he could see hundreds of stars shining brightly. Adam smiled as they passed the bench where he and Tamsin first kissed, and the basketball court where he and the Ducks played street puck sometimes when they felt they needed toughening up. Adam still had a pretty vicious scar on his chin from one of the memorably intense games in the summer and just then Adam brought a hand up to feel it. Adam had worked with Goldberg over that summer to help enhance his skill as a skater and defensive specialist and Adam was filled with pride as he remembered being hit with a check that he had taught Goldberg. So many of Adam's important memories had been formed in this place in the past four years. Although Adam had publicly lamented his distaste for the school in the past, Adam was sad that he would not be leaving Eden Hall as he expected—a graduate. The school meant more to Adam than he ever realized.  
  
Adam felt a moist, warm wetness at the tips of his fingers as he woke in his bed, the sun barely up in the sky. He looked around the dorm room with its Adam Oates poster and stand-up cardboard Sarah Michelle Gellar with dirty khakis and jerseys hanging on top of it, confused as his eyes finally focused on to Guy, his roommate. Who was holding a glass of warm water to Adam's fingers on his right hand—a ridiculously immature prank. But Adam could not help but burst out laughing as he rose out of bed and took Guy into a headlock. The two were playfully wrestling on the floor as Charlie, Dean and Fulton came to the doorway so they could all walk to homeroom together. The three joined in on the laughter as they witnessed the ridiculous scene. They dropped their books and bags and joined in on the lighthearted melee. Adam heard a crash as a stack of CDs hit the floor. Charlie had fashioned a pair of nunchucks out of old gym socks in the laundry basket. Fulton was waving a dollar store ninja sword in the air with threatening menace. Guy was brandishing a toy dagger, claiming that he was going to 'cut someone.' Dean was standing on top of Adam's bed, proclaiming himself the Grand Master of some-kingdom-or-another. They were going to be late for homeroom, but at the moment the five best of friends didn't care. As Adam laughed harder than he had laughed in years it seemed like, he experienced a joy that he thought was lost forever.  
  
Adam walked down the main hallway at Eden Hall, feeling uncharacteristically light. He and his friends walked into homeroom, five minutes late—unable to hold back snorts of laughter as they were being scolded by Mr. Torres. The five of them had just avoided being assigned detention—Guy kept flirting with trouble by sneaking the toy dagger out of his book bag and brandishing it, mouthing "I'll cut ya!" at random intervals of class. Adam had just left English, where he felt invigorated enough to participate in a heated discussion about Stanley Kowalski in "A Streetcar Named Desire."

He whistled a tune as Pilar Osorio joined him on his left side, matching his instep as they walked down the hallway for their Economics class.

Adam gave her a smile and a hug and she punched him in the arm playfully. "What's going on, Pilar?"

She looked at him slyly. "Nothing—but you're a ray of sunshine today. You're either drunk or 12 years old. I can't tell which quite yet."

Adam laughed. "I don't know, but I'm having a great day." He had been in a great mood ever since his walk from the library.

Pilar smiled. "That's good to hear." She looked around quickly. "Don't tell her, but Tom was really worried about you. She'll be glad to see you kicking your heels and smiling like a doofus—which is what you look like, of course." Adam gave Pilar a mock-push as they walked into Econ. He sure was going to miss Pilar.


	6. Going Home

Note: Yeah, I know that I promised that the next few chapters were going to be uplifting, but I had to add this as a set-up for the next chapter. Sorry!

On his monthly train ride home for the weekend, Adam thought about his nonexistent relation with his father. All of his life Adam's father had had all these unrealistic expectations and dreams that Adam wasn't so sure that he wanted for himself. For Pete's sake, Adam was only three when his dad taught him to skate and play hockey. He even had a specialized stick made for Adam. Every other kid that age was still playing with building blocks while Adam was out on the pond working on intense drills that a three-year-old did not have the capacity or the coordination to understand. It became worse as Adam showed a natural talent and grace for the game and developed an unwavering work ethic and dedication—no matter what he did or what skills he acquired, his dad wanted him to do more. Adam loved hockey and wanted to be on the ice every moment possible. So Adam tolerated his dad—lived in fear of him, perhaps.  
  
The first time that Adam had ever defied his father was the year he started playing hockey for the Division 5 Mighty Ducks, back in 5th grade. At first, Adam thought there was no way he'd play for the pathetic, fundamentally unsound group. On the Hawks, he was the best player in a group of polished and impressive boys destined to fill the ranks of high school varsity and Division I teams. But when Coach Bombay made it clear that if Adam didn't play for the Ducks that he could not play at all, Adam's love of hockey itself took precedence over what team he played on. His dad, however, demanded that Adam sit out the season rather than play with 'that group of good-for- nothing ragamuffins." Adam made it clear that for once, he would not budge to his dad's wishes. His father finally relented, convincing himself that in relation to the players on the Ducks that his son would look THAT much better.  
  
Adam's father was the biggest reason why Adam left junior varsity to rejoin varsity during freshman season. His dad insisted that the only way Adam would get better was to challenge himself playing against better players, but Adam knew that it was going to be a bad idea. Nobody, with the exception of Scooter, liked him—especially after their defeat in the JV/Varsity showdown. Even though Adam improved greatly playing under and watching the team's first line center, captain Rick Riley, hardly anyone ever spoke to him in the locker room or at school. Adam was miserable for the rest of that year, watching his friends bond together as a team without him. Hockey, under the philosophy of then-Varsity coach Wilson, was no longer fun. It was all about statistics and winning, much like Coach Reilly, whom he used to play under with the Hawks. "There is no use in winning if you can't win big," was what he used to say. Needless to say, Adam's father was totally satisfied with the situation. When junior season came around and Adam was finally joined on Varsity by the rest of the Ducks, Adam's father reared his head in Adam's business again. With the Ducks around, he insisted belligerently, Adam would not get enough touches of the puck. "They'll retard his development! Adam makes this team! You can't turn your back on him now!" Adam cringed as he remembered overhearing that tirade outside of Coach Orien's office last year. Adam was actually glad to hone his skills as a passer and liked playing the Ducks' team game again. They played well that way and that was all Adam cared about.

When he explained that to his father, his father slapped him and told Adam to "Be a man. You aren't going to reach the next level lowering yourself down to those...delinquents!" After that day, Adam could not find in himself a modicum of respect for his father. When Adam was placed on national first- team All-America, even though his father acted proud of him, Adam knew he was sneering inside, thinking "Adam could have been Player of the Year if he had listened to me." Now that Adam knew that this was going to be the last time he'd ever see his father, Adam wanted to make peace with him—by finally telling him the truth. He had nothing to lose.  
  
"Adam—I heard that there were some All-America committee members at your game on Thursday." Adam and his father sat in the family car after Adam's train arrived at the station. "Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"  
  
Adam stiffened, knowing what was to come. "It wasn't that important. Nothing is being decided just yet."  
  
"What do you mean, 'It wasn't that important'?! 'It,' as you so flippantly refer to their presence at your game, may be the most important 'it' in your entire life! I hope you played better than the crap you usually pull out! And I bet you let those teammates of yours prance around with the puck like they actually knew how to do anything with it!" Once again, Adam's father was unreasonably incensed.  
  
Adam despised his father when he degraded the Ducks like that. "Those teammates of mine are GREAT players, and they don't prance around with the puck. And I don't give a crap about Player of the Year if that means stealing all the glory away from the team. That's what hockey is all about, Dad—teamwork and having fun. I don't want what YOU want. Have you ever asked yourself what I wanted? Of course I want to perfect my hockey game, but there are more important things to it."  
  
Adam's father was silent with anger, like he would never forgive his son for thinking this way. All of a sudden, his father stopped the car abruptly, made a three-point turn and started driving in the opposite direction. "What are you doing, Dad?"  
  
"I don't know who you are, but no son of mine would act like as selfish as you are being. You're taking the next train back to Eden Hall. You can come back home when you get some balls and become a real man."  
  
Adam stared outside the window. So much for having nothing to lose, he thought. This would be Adam's last memory of his father.


	7. SevenCard Stud

Note: Hey, this was an extremely difficult chapter for me to write so please leave some feedback if you think it needs improvement.

Adam and his father didn't speak on the car ride back to the train station. Adam was beyond frustrated, knowing that he couldn't make his father understand. Guy looked surprised when Adam walked into the dorm room that day. As Guy was leaving to hang out with his girlfriend Connie, Adam climbed into bed with all of his clothes on and turned off the lights. When Guy returned more than 5 hours later, Adam was still in the same position, staring up into the ceiling. It was a silent, solemn night. For the first time, Adam cursed the strange ethereal woman and her choice to send him back. He fell asleep with a cold sadness in his heart.  
  
Adam ventured out for a walk Sunday afternoon, knowing that Guy was perilously close to getting the rest of the Ducks involved in his melancholy. The last thing Adam wanted was having to deal with the well- meaning concern of his teammates and friends. So Adam bundled himself up and walked, not caring where he went as long as he could release his pent up frustration and feeling of inevitable loneliness. Adam walked for hours, his head down with his breath visible in the cold Minnesota air. He refused to look and think about things and places around school that had held any importance to him—anything that would make Adam miss the life he was leaving behind. Adam succeeded in making himself feel numb when he spotted Thomasin leaving the library. Thomasin gave him a smile as she approached. Adam knew that his newfound emotional apathy would be troubled by an encounter with her. He hadn't spoken to her in days—simply because Adam didn't quite know how to deal with her. So Adam did the only thing he could think of at the moment—he ran away. He was a coward and Adam was ashamed of himself. However, he did not get away quickly enough to miss seeing the hurt in Thomasin's eyes. Adam cursed himself, knowing that he had hurt Thomasin too many times lately.  
  
It was Monday afternoon and Adam was sitting on a bench alone on Commons Field, watching all the people pass—his schoolmates. Eric Harmon from Adam's English class walked past with an arm around the shoulder of his girlfriend, Tara Evans. Erica Li, the senior class's inevitable valedictorian walked while studying out of a Physics textbook, wearing a Harvard sweatshirt. Kristin Chatham and Heather Yoast sat on the bench opposite Adam, smiling and laughing loudly, probably gossiping about other people and what they were wearing. He sat there, jealous knowing that these people all had tomorrows, and they would have more tomorrows to come. By Adam's count, he only had—he checked his watch quickly—three tomorrows left. Logically, Adam knew that he was luckier than most—to know the exact moment that one is going to die is an unusual privilege. But at this moment, Adam was having trouble feeling lucky.

Just then Adam realized that he was not alone on the bench. He turned his head sideways and saw that Portman had joined him. He and Dean sat there for a moment in silence. Portman broke the silence.

"Everyone's been worried about you, man." Portman's expression took Adam by surprise—his voice was uncharacteristically soft and self-conscious like he was not used to expressing concern for others.

Adam sighed in frustration. "Yeah, I know."

Portman stared straight ahead. "Anything I can do to help?" Although Portman liked to give the impression that he was a lone wolf, Adam knew that he could count on him for anything. But he wasn't sure if Portman could do anything in this particular situation. "You know, if you need to talk or anything." Adam was even more surprised at Portman's offer—and touched. He knew how hard it was for Portman to potentially expose himself vulnerably and appreciated the gesture.

Adam figured it could help to talk to Portman about some things—he had a strange feeling that Portman would know in some shape or form how Adam was feeling. Adam ran his fingers through his mussed, brown/blond hair. "I don't know. It's a lot of things. Tamsin for one—I keep hurting her, intentionally and unintentionally and I don't know why. Coach told me that I'm being considered for National Player of the Year and I don't even know if I care. My dad hates me and refuses to acknowledge me as his son because I don't care. It's a whole bunch of me just not caring or not knowing or...Damnit, I don't know."

Portman was quiet, deep in thought. "You know, before I joined the Ducks, I used to help my older brother jack cars and...other stuff." Portman did not elaborate but Adam got the idea and simply nodded. "I landed myself in lots of different juvies. The slightest thing you could do wrong in some of these places—give someone a dirty look or not avert your eyes when a warden was talking to you—could cost you. Life back then was just about surviving. Now I'm just grateful to be alive. We all go through hardships—and I'm not a religious guy at all—but I don't think we're ever given anything we can't handle. When trouble does come around, it does no use to think 'What if?' We do the only thing we can do—play the hand that we've been dealt."

Adam leaned back on the bench and rubbed the back of his neck. Portman was right and it had taken him this long to realize it. "Wow, Portman. Thanks."

Portman smiled at him—with just a hint of wicked slyness. "Yeah, you know, 'the game's a seven-card stud." He stood up, nodded and strolled away.

Adam laughed. Portman never ceased to surprise him, Adam thought as he remembered the quote from "A Streetcar Named Desire."


	8. All I'll Ever Ask

Adam sat in the school's library Tuesday, again working on a math assignment. He knew that it was basically useless to keep up with grades and homework and such considering that he was going to be dead in 2 days, but pride was what kept Adam at it. He worked assiduously, making unintelligible marks on his paper, working through long, complicated problems. Whenever Adam got really concentrated into a math assignment, it was like being in a trance. Adam groaned and slapped his forehead as he caught a mistake he had made over an hour ago. That mistake adulterated everything he had written afterward—two sheets worth. Adam was about to crumple his paper in frustration when he thought back to last Thursday night/Friday morning. He smiled to himself sheepishly, took out a fresh sheet of paper and got back to work.  
  
Over an hour later, Adam finally finished his assignment, mistake-free and felt an unexplainable feeling of satisfaction. Usually when he finally survived another ordeal with the math book, the feeling was more of a dejected relief—not the exhilaration that bordered on euphoria that Adam was feeling right now. Adam's conversation with Dean ran through his mind. It made Adam realize that he had to make the best of the days he had left. It would do him no good to dwell on his troubles with his dad or his unsettling feelings of doubt and apathy—he just had to concentrate on what he had here and now and learn how to be grateful for it.  
  
Adam was jerked out of his trance with the snap of someone's fingers. He glanced up sharply and was surprised to see Thomasin standing there, arms akimbo and head cocked to the side. She looked at Adam with an odd expression; it was an unusual combination of bemusement, longing and confusion—if Adam was not mistaken, there was also a microcosm of well- hidden hurt in her face.  
  
Adam remembered the many times he had hurt her recently and it killed him (not literally, that would come Friday morning) to think about it. He did the only reasonable thing he could think of at the moment—Adam stood up and enveloped Thomasin in a huge embrace. Adam hugged her, wanting to protect Thomasin from all the hurt that he had ever inflicted on her—intentionally and unintentionally. Thomasin stiffened with surprise, but then lifted her chin up towards his face and looked in his eyes. She seemed to find some sort of understanding and nodded. Thomasin then rested her head against Adam's chest and they stood there, sharing a moment that no one, not even Death herself, could take away from them.  
  
Thomasin was the one who broke the moment. "Hey...Guy told me I'd find you here."  
  
She probably had just finished her daily jog, Adam noted as he took in Thomasin's white tank and track shorts. Her long, chestnut hair was scraped up into a messy ponytail tied high on her head. Thomasin's face was free of makeup and the physical exertion made her face glow with a golden sheen. In her most natural state, Adam had never thought Thomasin was more beautiful.  
  
"Yeah, well, I was working on some AdMath homework. What's up?"  
  
Thomasin gave him a huge grin. "I have a surprise for you. I know that you've been down lately and I just wanted to cheer you up."  
  
She was visibly excited, fidgeting like a child waiting to open presents on Christmas Eve. Thomasin produced out of her back pocket a small white envelope and handed it to Adam.  
  
Adam was intrigued to see the normally composed and cool Thomasin acting anxious and excited. He slowly opened the envelope and stared blankly with disbelief at its contents. "Tamsin...These are tickets to the NHL All-Star game." Adam's eyes grew wide. "How did you get these seats? The game's been sold out forever."  
  
Thomasin looked at Adam slyly. "You have to let every girl have her secrets. So, do you like it?"  
  
Adam picked up Thomasin in an embrace. "Of course I do. But c'mon, I know these must have cost a fortune."  
  
Thomasin fidgeted in nervousness. "I got them on online auction. It got kind of intense near the end, but I had something that the other bidders didn't."  
  
Adam knew that Thomasin would not elaborate, but he saw Thomasin instinctively reach for her right ring finger with her left hand. Thomasin fingered the antique diamond ring she wore whenever she was nervous. Adam was shocked to see the ring was not there—and suddenly he realized what Thomasin had implied in her statement.  
  
Adam suddenly became very solemn and serious. "Tamsin, why do you keep doing this? You keep giving me more than what I deserve. I've treated you like crap for the last couple of days and yet still...This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me." Thomasin truly perplexed Adam. Everyone had their limits—even Thomasin with her infinite patience—and Adam was sure that he had passed those limits by far in recent time. Again, Adam had to ask, why?  
  
Thomasin took a moment to think before answering Adam's question. "Adam, do you remember the first time we met, when Scooter introduced us at the Winter Enchantment Dance? I sprained my ankle that night and you carried me to my dorm room afterward. I thought that was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me—and you had known me for three hours. And the time I made you that horrible sweater when I was first learning how to knit—you still wear that even though I don't expect you to. Just this Christmas you almost burned down your parents' kitchen trying to make my favorite cheesecake."  
  
Adam blushed at all the memories that he and Thomasin had shared, the moments he had almost taken for granted. Thomasin continued, "And through everything—good times and bad—I've never stopped caring about you. I want exactly what you can give me—and that's all I'll ever ask for."  
  
Adam looked at Thomasin and suddenly knew who he wanted to spend the last hours of his life with. "Tamsin...Do you want to hang out after the Ashland game Thursday?"  
  
Thomasin gave Adam a strange look, perturbed slightly at his formality—Adam didn't usually ask to hang out. It was something they just did.  
  
However, Thomasin felt the sense of occasion and nodded her head. "Of course, Adam."  
  
She kissed him and before she left the library, Thomasin placed the small white envelope in Adam's hand. "Don't forget about these."  
  
Adam watched after her, and then looked down at the tickets he held in his hand. Adam studied the tickets, knowing what Thomasin had sacrificed for them. His gaze suddenly locked onto the date imprinted on the tickets—February 9. Once again, Adam was reminded that he was going to die in a matter of—he quickly checked his watch—2 days. He would never see the All-Star Game. 


	9. Come Back Soon

"Come back soon, Adam. You've been gone far too long." Becky Orion gave him a grin, a smile that was composed entirely of sincerity and good- nature.  
  
Becky Orion was Coach's daughter, a sweet girl who was only a couple years younger than the Ducks. Becky was involved in a horrible car accident several years back that kept her wheelchair-bound. Adam used to visit Becky all the time, but couldn't remember the last time he had been around. In fact, Adam was only there today because Coach Orion wanted to see him. However, there was no trace of hurt or bitterness in Becky's face. She just was happy to see him. Adam thought about all the hardships that Becky had been through over the years. The accident. The painful rehabilitations. Knowing that she'd probably be disabled for the rest of her life. The subtle stares of pity people gave her. And still, Becky was probably the most optimistic and cheerful person Adam knew. Adam really wished he could be more like her—it would have saved him a lot of heartbreak and pain.  
  
"Adam," Coach Orion appeared, entering the living room from the kitchen, "You feel like taking a walk?"  
  
Adam had no idea what Coach wanted to see him about and was surprised at his request. "Sure, Coach. I'm up for a walk."  
  
Coach Orion bid goodbye lovingly to Becky, leaning over to place a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be back in an hour. My phone is on if you need anything. I love you." Adam watched with a tinge of jealousy, thinking back to his last moments with his father.  
  
Adam and Coach Orion walked side by side through the beautiful suburban neighborhood in silence.  
  
"Adam, I wanted to give you the news today before the Associated Press wrote about it. The All-America committee is expected to announce Kent Smith as the All-America National Player of the Year. However, you will be listed on the first-team roster again. So, I'm sorry...but congratulations, too."  
  
As much as Adam thought he didn't care about the award, losing it disappointed him more than he thought it would. Deep down, Adam realized how much he really wanted to be Player of the Year.  
  
To Adam's surprise, Coach Orion continued. "There was another thing I wanted to tell you. I won't be returning next year to Eden Hall. There is a physical therapist in Phoenix who I think will really help Becky. As my captain, I wanted you to be the first to know. I didn't want to leave without telling you how much it meant to me to be your coach, Adam. You've been blessed with incredible talent, and to watch you play is a thing of beauty. However, to watch you work on your game, develop your skills—that was the real inspiration. It really is amazing when your best player is the hardest-working person on your team. You've provided a fantastic example for your teammates. In fact, yesterday at practice I saw you showing Connie how to get more velocity on her slap shot while in motion. Then she stayed behind an hour after everyone left to work on it. They all really respect you, as do I."  
  
Adam was speechless. "Wow. I didn't even realize that Connie had done that." Adam had taken it for granted the times he gave advice to his teammates or showed them how to do something. It made Adam swell with pride knowing that he contributed to their development. Adam thought about the time he spent with Goldberg this summer, improving his skating movement. Connie and her slap shot. He worked extensively with Averman and face-offs. Adam had left his own distinct mark in the playing styles of most of his teammates. Adam realized that even after he was gone, his legacy would still live on in his teammates. Suddenly the disappointment from not winning Player of the Year receded. Coach Orion had made him see that Adam had all that he could ask for.  
  
While Adam was there with Coach Orion, Adam took the opportunity to ask him a question that had always nagged in his mind. "Coach...Did you ever regret leaving the NHL?"  
  
Coach Orion looked solemn. "You know, I loved hockey more than anything, Adam. So I thought. When Becky got into her car accident, I was devastated. I remember those nights waiting in the hospital room, watching Becky with all those tubes sticking out of her—and I realized that Becky was the only person I had left. The thought of losing her was the one thing that could make me walk away from hockey. I've never regretted it. Things don't always go as expected—but that's not necessarily a bad thing. After everything we've been through, Becky and I are closer than ever. I wouldn't trade that for anything. As far as I'm concerned, I'm the luckiest man alive."  
  
He and Adam continued walking, in silence. After half an hour, they found themselves on the Orions' porch.  
  
"Thanks, Coach." Orion nodded and went inside his home, bidding Adam goodbye. Adam stood for a moment at the closed door. "For everything." 


	10. Locker Room Conversations

It was Thursday, game day against Ashland Preparatory—the last day of Adam's life. Adam took his customary place on the bench in front of his locker and started his usual pre-game process. Adam stopped suddenly and realized that today would be the last day he'd ever see his teammates and friends. To hell with this pre-game ritual, Adam thought. It was an unpleasant reminder of his father and his negative influence in Adam's life. The Ducks were always there, always showing Adam unwavering support and faith. Today would be for them.  
  
"...Scooter really likes it over at Minnesota. He's excited that you're going to be joining him next year. Scooter says he has a spot waiting for you in his fraternity." Julie visibly enjoyed talking about her boyfriend, who began his college career as a walk-on and now excelled as starting goalie of the University of Minnesota's Division I hockey team.  
  
Julie gave him a mock look of concern. "You two aren't going to get in too much trouble, are you?"  
  
Julie was slated to play hockey at Dartmouth University and Adam knew that while she was nervous about returning to the all-female game, Julie would really like it at Dartmouth.  
  
As Julie pulled her hair back into her customary braid, Adam studied her with interest. She really blossomed over the years into a golden beauty and one of his best friends. If Adam didn't care about Thomasin so much, he could have seen himself falling in love with Julie eventually. As it was, Adam would miss her. He surprised even himself as he placed a kiss on Julie's cheek. She gave him a look of confusion. "Good luck with everything, Julie."  
  
Connie and Guy held hands as they talked to Adam about their plans for next year. They would both be playing at the University of Minnesota in Duluth in the fall. The two of them would excel hockey-wise, and Adam hoped that they would make it through all the trials and temptations of college. That was one thing that could make Adam believe in life again.  
  
"You're going to kick ass, Connie. I know it." Adam meant it. Connie held a beautiful grace and loveliness on the ice and always worked to get better. She gave Adam a sweet smile that was adorable and pure.  
  
Adam turned his gaze to Guy. Guy was an extremely consistent player with a fantastic array of skills, and Adam understood that sometimes he felt overshadowed and underappreciated. Adam placed a hand on Guy's arm. Being his roommate for the past two years was filled with moments of unadulterated laughter and fun, and Adam would always remember those times. "There are going to be some great opportunities for you at Duluth. It's going to take some patience and hard work, but you're going to be one of the top defensemen that they have, Guy."  
  
Guy gave him a look that said that he understood. He slapped Adam's arm and said, "Thanks, Adam, but what's up with all the sappiness?"  
  
Adam suddenly felt a little weary. "I've always meant to say these things... But no moment seemed right until now."  
  
Ever since their conversation on the park bench, Adam saw Portman in a different light. "Portman, I just want to thank you for setting me straight. I've been acting like a spoiled preppy lately and I'm glad that someone had the guts to tell me how it is."  
  
Portman grunted an affirmative, but Adam knew that there was more to Portman than met the eye. "I also just wanted to tell you that...I'm proud of you."  
  
It seemed like such a ridiculous thing to say, but at the moment, that's how Adam felt. Portman had gone through things in the past that Adam could not even begin to imagine. Nonetheless, Portman would be attending college in Michigan next fall. Whether or not he'd be playing hockey, Portman didn't know. The point was that Portman had made it when no one ever thought he would.  
  
Adam really wished that he could speak to Jesse Hall right now. When the two of them first met, Jesse was distrustful of working with a former Hawk and "Cake-Eater." But eventually, the two of them became connected through a genuine love of hockey.  
  
Jesse was now playing varsity hockey at a tough public high school in Minneapolis. He had a hard time over there sometimes, because his high school hockey program was always in danger of being eliminated through budget cuts and many of the players had difficulty keeping their grades up.  
  
One time Adam asked Jesse why he refused to attend Eden Hall with the rest of the Ducks. Jesse stared at into the distance before he answered. "I don't know...Maybe because I can make a difference there. I try to be a role model, keeping my grades up and eventually going to college. I teach hockey at the YMCA, and I see kids everyday with dreams—dreams that they think will never come true. I know it sounds dumb...But I just want to show them that it's possible. We don't all take the easy road, but I want them to know that we can all make it, no matter which road we take." Adam held the utmost respect for Jesse, and now Adam wished he could tell Jesse exactly that.  
  
Adam spoke to everyone on his team. He talked to Kenny Wu, who was going to the qualifiers in the summer for next year's major skating competitions. It was going to be a tough, almost impossible road for Kenny. Ice Skating remained as Kenny's first love, and no one could begrudge Kenny his dream. Adam could only wish to have as much courage as Kenny was showing in the last hours of his life.  
  
Adam's conversation with Russ Tyler was light-hearted. Russ cracked a couple of jokes and called him a 'cake eater.'  
  
Fulton was taking a year off of school next year, and Adam wished him luck in everything he did.  
  
Adam let Averman inform him extensively on his latest exploits in Final Fantasy 18—or whatever number they were on now.  
  
Goldberg was going to go back to Philadelphia—to attend a junior college and help his parents out at the deli. He spoke excitedly about the new brands of lunch meats Goldberg's Delicatessen was going to offer in a couple of months.  
  
Luis was going to pursue collegiate track at Ohio State. In the last couple of years Luis had become very much a ladies man and Adam had a difficult time relating to him sometimes. However, he could only wish Luis the best.  
  
Dwayne was going to attend school at New York University—and it made Adam both smile and worry about the same time for him. Adam thought that the change of environment would do Dwayne a lot of good. However, his naiveté in life in general worried Adam. New York was a tough place with people ready to take advantage of someone lacking in street smarts like Dwayne. As Dwayne spoke to him about going home for the summer, roping hogs and raising chickens, Adam really hoped for the best. Adam had to believe in the power of the human spirit, for it existed all around him in this locker room.  
  
Adam sat down on the bench in front of Charlie's locker. He wanted to save his best friend for last. Charlie leaned forward, propped up by his elbows. He had been watching Adam make his rounds.  
  
"Adam, what's going on?" Adam didn't know how to answer Charlie's question. He didn't want to lie to his best friend, but Adam also remembered the warning words of the pale, ethereal woman.  
  
"What aren't you telling us? I don't know...But I have the feeling that you're leaving us unexpectedly. Is it problems with your dad?"  
  
Adam looked at Charlie's face—Charlie looked back at him with an expression of well-meaning concern. He decided at that moment that Charlie should know the truth, at least at some small scale.  
  
Adam let out a sigh. "You're going to have to trust me when I say that I can't tell you everything. I just want to thank you for always being there for me. Through all the craziness with college scouts, my dad, school, Tamsin, you've always given me an ear to talk to and I've never doubted that you've had my back. But soon, there will be a time when I'm not around anymore. Again, I can't tell you when. As my best friend, I just want to ask you to help the Ducks understand in some way. Take care of Tamsin for me. Let my parents know that I love them."  
  
Adam fought hard to keep tears from falling down his face. Now that the time was quickly approaching, he was having trouble leaving it all behind.  
  
Charlie nodded. "I don't fully understand what's going on, but I'll always be here for you, Adam. I'll try my best to do everything you asked. And wherever you're going or whatever you're doing...I'll hope for the best for you." He spoke in a tone of devastating finality.  
  
Adam knew he could count on Charlie. The two best friends sat in silence, knowing that this moment would be burned forever in both of their memories. 


	11. The Battle of Ashland

A/N: I wrote this chapter while listening to Ben Harper's "Amen Omen." It's truly an amazing song. Also, although this might be a disappointment to some, I am not going to attempt to write a full-on, realistic hockey scene. Seeing as I would only embarrass myself in the process with bouts of ignorance, I'll leave that part to the imaginations of all you rabid hockey fans.  
  
Adam stood at the entrance of the ice. He was almost afraid to take the first step—Adam would then have to accept the irrevocable end. The only thing that ran through Adam's mind—and it ran like it was competing in the Boston Marathon—was that THIS would be the last time he'd ever be on the ice. Hockey was a huge part of Adam's life for 15 years and as strange as it seemed, it was maybe the hardest thing for him to say goodbye to.  
  
"Hey, Banks! Are you planning to stand there forever? We have a game to play!" Adam turned around and saw Coach Orion standing there, arms crossed with a smile on his face.  
  
Adam felt foolish just standing there. Slowly he placed his right foot on the ice, and then the left. Adam pushed off and let himself glide on the ice, not quite paying attention to where he was going. The ice beneath Adam's skates felt unreal, like he was floating. Adam crouched down and slid his hand across the ice as he skated, like he needed tangible proof that he was there at that very moment. Flashbacks raced through Adam's head.  
  
Adam thought about the first time he ever took a step on the ice, at the pond near his house. Adam was just three years old at the time, but even then he could feel the ice's magical presence—the same presence Adam felt right now.  
  
He remembered scoring his first goal in Pee Wee hockey—Adam could recall looking into the stands and catching the first of the few and far between expressions of genuine pride on his father's face.  
  
Adam saw Jesse's face towering above him as he lay in a stretcher back in fifth grade—knowing that he had found his friends for life.  
  
Adam evoked distinctly the memory as he rotated his stick with his right wrist in the championship game of the Junior Goodwill Games.  
  
Adam felt the impact of the puck hitting his side as he lunged to cover the goal during the JV/Varsity game of his freshman year.  
  
Adam even remembered skating in an empty rink, leading Thomasin by the hand as he attempted to teach her the basics of skating. Adam saw vividly the moment when he caught Thomasin as she was falling down, her face flushed with both embarrassment and being winded. Looking back, that may have been the first moment Adam felt the first budding and hidden pangs of love.  
  
Moments later Adam found himself in the middle of the pre-game huddle, in the midst of his teammates.  
  
"I just want to emphasize on some notes for today," Coach Orion got right to business. "Adam, when defending on Terrence Evers, drive the action to his left—he has the potential to smoke you on the right side but Evers is a bumbling idiot when forced with making a decision on the left side. Guy, don't edge off of Harris Franklin on defense—he has a moving slap shot that'll make you pay. Don't let Ashland push you into a battle of defensive wills—that's the only way they can win. And don't stop moving—keep the offense flowing. Adam, do you have anything else to say?" Coach always gave the captain an opportunity to speak his thoughts on any addition items. Most of the time, Adam just tried to make ostensible sense. However, today Adam knew he would never be satisfied with himself not speaking from the heart.  
  
"We face Ashland today, and since in our careers we've been undefeated against them, I know that it's very easy to write off this game. But as your captain, I ask you to remember—these are the best times of our lives. Every week, a small piece of immortality is waiting out there on the ice for the taking. We owe it to ourselves, and most especially to that part of ourselves that loves hockey unconditionally and purely, to play each and every single one of these games as if it were our last. I love you guys and there are no other people in this world that I'd want to share these moments with. Go out there and play for dedication, camaraderie, and most importantly, the love of the game—because right now, that's all that matters. I know that I haven't been the perfect leader and we haven't always been the perfect team. But I've tried my best and you've all tried your best—and sometimes, that's all we can ever ask for." Adam looked every single one of his teammates squarely in the eye—this was Adam's way of saying goodbye, and he knew that he could not really do it properly without playing his heart out today.  
  
The Ducks placed their hands together like spokes in one wheel, and Adam reveled in the peace and security he felt in the proximity of his teammates—his closest friends. As they skated to their positions and waited for the beginning of the game, Adam took his place at center ice. Adam felt the beginning of the poignant end and time seemed to slow as the referee dropped the puck for the first face-off. 


	12. Wanting What You Have

A/N: First, a Serious Question: Is Thomasin Logan a perfect Mary Sue? This is really bothering me. A small note: The small bit of Spanish that Thomasin speaks (Thomasin is a name originating from Spain) was generated from www.freetranslation.com and I have no idea if that is correct. If anyone is interested, I typed in the phrase "uck you" to be translated, but my friend who takes Spanish says that that really translates into "uck it." That's good enough for me. Just some happy, good-natured fun. Also, I used to write a lot of romance novel stuff and I decided to let it all break loose with the sappiness in this chapter. Sorry, had to do it.  
  
As Adam approached Thomasin in the Eden Hall parking lot, a strange feeling pervaded his consciousness. Adam was nervous, anxious—the same mix of feelings that he remembered from their first real date. The sheer irony of the idea struck Adam and he could not help but to laugh out loud. Of course, this was going to be Adam and Thomasin's last date. He looked up and smiled at Thomasin before any depressing thoughts could enter his head.  
  
Thomasin sat perched on the hood of her car, studying the nails of her left hand and speaking into her cell phone. As Adam neared she hung up her phone and stood up to greet him.  
  
Adam put an arm around Thomasin's shoulder and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Hey, Tam—you're looking..." Adam stopped and fully looked her over "...spirited."  
  
With creatively applied face paint, pompoms stuck in her hair and wearing her personalized "BANKS" Eden Hall replica jersey, Adam had to admit that Thomasin looked kind of like...a dork. It made him laugh, evoking a light and pleasant emotion.  
  
Thomasin looked down at herself and joined in his laughter, playfully elbowing him in the ribs. "Oh, jeez, I look ridiculous. I was just about to take off the face paint when Pilar called." Thomasin teasingly imitated Pilar's ever-sarcastic tone. "I'm being ditched for a white, pretty boy preppy? I'm sorry, girl, but you are not going to be able to show your face in Spanish Harlem after this."  
  
Adam grinned. "And what did you say to her?"  
  
Thomasin gave him a sly look. "Jódalo."  
  
Adam was no Spanish whiz, but he knew enough to get Thomasin's message and he laughed. "Well, thanks...I think." Adam noticed Thomasin's wayward towel on the hood of her car and picked it up. "Let me help you with this." Thomasin tried to swat his hand away from her face in slight embarrassment. The two of them stood there in silence as Adam gently swabbed off the red paint, and the moment felt painfully intimate.  
  
When Thomasin finally spoke, her voice came out in slightly hoarse tones. "Did you get everything?"  
  
"No, wait; there is one last spot...Right here." Adam kissed the corner of Thomasin's mouth.  
  
Adam was never so demonstrative with his emotions, but he figured that this was as good a time as any.  
  
Thomasin haphazardly pulled the pompoms out of her hair and removed her jersey to reveal a regular white t-shirt. Her face, although with slight traces of red paint smeared here and there, glowed with pleasant contentment. "So... Where are we headed, Banks?"  
  
Adam tried to put a lot of thought into this beforehand, but somehow no place seemed exactly right. He remembered his thoughts of just minutes ago—the ironic connection between their first and last dates. Adam thought, the hell with it, and decided to make the connection full circle. "How about the drive-in?"  
  
Thomasin raised an eyebrow. The drive-in was an abandoned outdoor cinema where slightly tipsy (or let's face it, totally wasted) couples made out or did who-knows-what on Friday nights. When Adam and Thomasin ended up there on their first date, they spent the whole night just talking—about themselves, school, life in general. Oddly, they had never been back since. But at that moment, it was exactly the perfect place.  
  
They sat in Thomasin's car at the drive-in, in silence, each of them not knowing quite what to say.  
  
Adam took the occasion to ask Thomasin a question that had nagged on his mind for years. To Adam, Thomasin's answer could just be what he needed to leave his life behind with some semblance of satisfaction. "Tamsin, how is it that you always seem content with life? I've never understood it."  
  
Thomasin reflected and spoke softly. "Do you remember the time when I came down with you that weekend to have dinner with your parents? Afterward, I was helping your mother clean up in the kitchen and she turned to me and said, 'Sweetheart, you are terribly mistaken if you think that you are the right girl for my son.' I didn't know what to say to her because I thought that she could be right. But then I realized that you make me happy, and that's all that matters. I think our discontent stems from a desire to satisfy everyone, meet people's expectations. Isn't that how you feel about your father? After that day with your mother, I knew that I would never satisfy her. I would never be pretty enough, charming enough, polished enough. We spend all this time, effort and emotion trying—but it'll never happen. Why spend all our lives trying to obtain something we'll never have? I just thought, I'm happy and I love everything I have. That's enough."  
  
Adam sat there in thought to Thomasin's answer and spoke the first words that entered his mind. "Tam...I'm going to miss you."  
  
Thomasin glanced at him sideways. "Well, UCLA isn't THAT far from the University of Minnesota. It's only about 1, 949.06 miles. Not that I know that for a fact, of course."  
  
Adam tried to smile at her sweet naiveté. He resisted the temptation to ask exactly how far UCLA was from the afterlife, but Adam figured that one might be a little difficult, even for someone as smart as Thomasin.  
  
"Adam, you don't have to think that far ahead. We can wait a couple of months before we confront that problem." Thomasin grabbed his hand.  
  
Adam knew differently, and his expression visibly worried Thomasin. Her smile faded and Adam detached his hand from hers. They sat in the dark car, staring at each other like hurt children. Adam did not know who reached first but suddenly he held Thomasin in his arms and Adam stroked her hair. She could sense the air of inevitability and tears ran slowly down her face.  
  
Adam stared down at Thomasin's tear-stained face and was shocked to realize...that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this girl. Unfortunately, that life would end in a matter of hours. Adam did not know how or exactly how long he had left. He did not want to move his arm to check his watch because Adam recognized that there would never be enough time. Time passed by so quickly that no one ever realized it before it disappeared. People never truly knew how much of it was wasted until the very end.  
  
The two of them sat there, with Thomasin in Adam's arms, for what seemed like an eternity. Adam watched her doze off, and felt himself losing the battle against tiredness as well. He thought about his life in quick flashes. Adam loved his parents, despite it all. Coach Orion and his devotion to life, hockey, and Becky taught Adam the lessons necessary to become a man. The Ducks and their unwaveringly loyalty and friendship would stay with Adam forever. As Adam fell asleep, he knew that he was going out the right way. The girl he loved was in his arms and Adam was content, knowing at that moment, he wanted everything he had.  
  
(This may or may not be the end. I'll think about it, because, let's face it: How creepy would it be for Thomasin to wake up in the arms of a dead guy? Would that not scar her for life? So watch out for the next couple of days for an update.) 


	13. The True End

Adam awoke and found himself in a familiar place—the reception room. He looked around and saw new people, who looked just as confused as the people he recalled from the first time around. Adam gave each of them a reassuring smile as if to say—hey, it's not going to be that bad. Adam glanced on his watch. The same immaculately dressed receptionist stepped into the room just as the time changed from 2:02 to 2:03. He had to laugh to himself about their unforgiving punctuality.  
  
The woman looked up and smiled at Adam. "Hey, you're back. She's in there waiting for you."  
  
Adam managed to smile back and stepped into the room. He was nervous because while Adam had been there before, he still did not know what to expect this time around.  
  
The pale woman with white-blond hair, piercing blue eyes and dazzling red lips was busy with paperwork when Adam walked in. She motioned for him to sit and she made the finishing touches on her stack of papers with a flourish. "Sorry about that—busy day today because of a huge train wreck in London."  
  
The woman tapped her fingers on the desk and stared at Adam. It made him slightly nervous. "So, Adam, glad to see you again, although that might be a silly thing to say considering the circumstances." She continued to watch Adam with an expression like the woman was not sure she should say what she intended to. The woman smiled with a hint of joyful resignation, as if her own curiosity had won out. "I don't want to sound like a childish and gossiping teenage girl, but I want to know EVERYTHING. This file I get about you just gives me all the dry details like your emotional line graph, and to be honest—it is so BORING. Start from the beginning."  
  
It was strange, but this woman—whose name Adam still did not know—had become a friend of his. So he did tell her everything that happened to him in the past week—the argument with his father, his conversations with Portman, Thomasin, Coach Orion and Charlie, the last goodbye to his Duck teammates—everything. The woman listened with an intent ear and an enraptured expression. Adam did not notice it himself, but as he spoke his face glowed with something indescribable. The woman knew she was not doing the expression justice by calling it 'happiness,' but nonetheless, she had to smile.  
  
When Adam finished, the two of them sat in silence. Finally, the woman tapped the wood of her desk once as if she had determined something in the complicated recesses of her thoughts. "So I suppose you were glad to have the extra time?"  
  
Adam nodded in affirmative. "You were right. When I had died the first time, I was spoiled, detached and generally unpleasant. I was ready to walk away from my life without a second glance. After this week, I realized what an idiot I was being. I had forgotten about the little things that made everything worth living—my girlfriend's smile, the feel of the ice beneath my skates, a dollar-store ninja sword, even accomplishing a hard math assignment. " In front of this dazzling and elegant woman, Adam thought he sounded simple and graceless. However, he could only speak what he felt. "So, I just wanted...to thank you."  
  
The woman gazed at him blankly, and to Adam's surprise a single tear fell down her perfectly formed cheek and onto her paperwork.  
  
"You know, Adam... I just decided that I don't want you around here anymore. See what you've done to me?" She smiled at him and wiped the tear from her eye. "It's safe to say that that has never happened before. I don't even know how to cry."  
  
Adam had an idea of what the woman was saying but was in a state of shock. "Wait...what?"  
  
The woman chuckled. "Oh, jeez, I forgot that you always have to explain things to humans." She gave him a kind smile. "I'm sending you back, Adam Henry Travers Banks. I want for you to live a long and happy life...so that when you come back you will have lots of beautiful stories to tell me. I have enjoyed our time together, but I do not want to see you again for a long, long time."  
  
And for the second time, Adam blacked out to the image of the woman's beautiful, ethereal face.  
  
Adam awoke Friday morning with Thomasin asleep in his lap, breathing steadily. As he shook off the last remnants of sleep, Adam was shocked to see daylight. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was six in the morning. Adam's thoughts returned to the strange pale woman. At this point, he still was not quite sure what was real. All he knew was that he was alive and Adam had everything to be thankful for. He would try and make amends with his father. Adam knew that it would be difficult, but the least anyone could do was try. He would forge a future with Thomasin because in perspective, 1, 949.06 miles really WASN'T that much of a distance. Adam would visit Jesse in Minneapolis and finally tell him how much he respected him. And also, Adam decided that Charlie deserved to learn the truth—for it took a real friend to accept the vague details that Adam had earlier provided and in some way, understand.  
  
Adam's thoughts returned to the present as Thomasin stirred in his lap and awoke.  
  
"Hey, you," Adam said with a smile. "We have to get going...Class starts in an hour." Adam never thought he would see the day that he would be glad to be in school.  
  
Thomasin yawned and returned Adam's smile with a sleepy, contented grin. Life would not be easier than it normally would after today. Adam would experience periods of hardship, pain and disappointment, but he knew that he would also have moments of joy, pride and contentment—and somehow, those moments seemed to outweigh everything else.  
  
THE END 


End file.
